


You've Got The Love

by nitpickyabouttrains



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cookie Dough, Fluff, Found Families, Friendship, Gen, adorable boys, getting messy, my friend didn't feel good, so i wrote this to cheer her up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3122138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitpickyabouttrains/pseuds/nitpickyabouttrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What is this, some kind of new werewolf super power?” Stiles rolled his eyes. “The amazing ability to tell if cookie dough is good or bad based on shade?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Got The Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FlameBlownWhiter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlameBlownWhiter/gifts).



> Dear Flame, 
> 
> I wrote this for you like 4 bad days ago, to cheer you up. It took me ages to post, but I hope it still makes you smile. 
> 
> Nitpicky

“You are doing this all wrong,” Scott said, craning his neck over Stiles’s shoulder, trying to see what he was doing.

“Am not,” Stiles said, not bothering to turn around. Instead he moved to his right, keeping Scott out of his work area. The last thing he needed was an antsy werewolf getting in the way of the delicate procedure.

“It’s not supposed to be that color, I don’t think,” Scott insisted, peering into the bowl Stiles was stirring. “It’s not usually that color when my mom makes them.”

The spoon froze mid-stir and Stiles scrunched up his face in confusion. “What color is it supposed to be?”

Scott shrugged and leaned back against the counter. “I don’t know, more of a tan? I think?”

Stiles stared into the bowl. All in all, he had thought he was doing a pretty good job. But it was his first time, it was possible he had gotten something really wrong. The color was probably not it. “What do you call this, then?” Stiles asked, whirling around and holding the bowl up to Scott’s face.

“More of a brown?” Scott suggested, with a small shrug.

“What is this, some kind of new werewolf super power?” Stiles rolled his eyes. “The amazing ability to tell if cookie dough is good or bad based on shade?”

Scott shot him a grin,“No, I just have more experience in this than you. I know my mom’s recipe.”

“If you knew what you were doing, then why did you call me over and demand help?” Stiles asked casually, smiling back, knowing he was going to win this one. “You seemed much less sure fifteen minutes ago, when there was just a bag of flour.”

“Yeah,” Scott agreed, “because my mom usually does this part. And I come in at the end to eat the dough and help make fun cookie shapes. This is the part I know.”

“Fun cookie shapes?” Stiles repeated with a snort.

Scott shrugged, “Yeah, like lacrosse sticks or soccer balls. Whatever I wanted, when I was little. More recently, there hasn’t really been time for this part. And everyone has been so stressed. And I just thought that…”

“That your mom might appreciate some lacrosse shaped cookies?” Stiles tried to finish the end of the sentence, as Scott trailed off.

“I mean, we can make ones she might like more?” Scott offered sounding unsure. “Maybe hearts or flowers or something? I just want to do something for her, like she used to do for me, when she knew I needed cheering up.”

Stiles pressed his lips together. He knew exactly what Scott meant, it was happening in his house too. The tension. The constant level of stress and worry. He wanted to help just as badly as Scott did. And not just with Melissa, but also with his own father. There was no quick fix, he knew that. But maybe Scott was not so off. Maybe just something to make their parents smile.

“I am sure she’ll like this,” Stiles said helpfully.

“Yeah,” Scott agreed, bumping his shoulder lightly against Stiles’s. “If we can get the cookies to turn out alright.”

Stiles nudged Scott’s shoulder back playfully. “What do you mean ‘we’? This is all my hard work. You didn’t even have an egg in the house.”

“It was my idea,” Scott pouted.

“Which I executed beautifully,” Stiles insisted, leaning the bowl toward Scott so he could see the mixture inside. All that was missing was the chocolate chips, and it would be ready for the oven. “You thought baking soda and baking powder were the same thing. You were lost without me. Admit it.”

An impish look crossed Scott’s face. Before Stiles could think about what it meant, or move to react, Scott had stuck his entire hand into the batter. He pulled it out slowly, the uncooked cookies dripping off his fingers. His face inched toward his hand, as if daring Stiles to say something. But Stiles was at a loss for words. He watched helplessly, as Scott’s tongue flicked out quickly, catching a drop of dough that was about to fall onto the ground.

“Okay, I admit it,” Scott said, laughing, “it does taste like I remember it’s supposed to.”

Stiles could feel his face getting redder and redder. “You do realize what you have just done?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady and strong.

“No,” Scott said with a level of fake innocence that had not worked since they were four. He stuck the first finger of his hand into his mouth and started to clean off the mixture. “What did I do?”

Stiles looked at Scott, then back at the bowl, which was now unusable, and then up at the grin Scott was giving him. That settled it. There was nothing to lose. Stiles grabbed the wooden spoon from the bowl, careful to load it up with as much of the mixture as possible, and flung the dough and the spoon together at Scott.

“This is war!” Stiles declared, as the spoon smacked Scott squarely in the chest.

Scott grabbed it and reached to get more dough from the bowl, but Stiles ducked out of the way, and dove underneath the counter. He took a deep breath, readying himself for the next attack. But it still came as a shock when Scott’s dough-covered-hand ground into his face.

“Did you seriously think you could hide from me?” Scott asked, wiggling his nose. “Werewolf smell, remember?”

“No fair,” Stiles whined, “that’s cheating.”

He reached into the bowl, giving up on the spoon, since there was already uncooked cookies covering his face, and splashed dough at Scott. It got him on the back, as he was reaching the counter.

“There are no rules in war,” Scott declared, tearing open the bag of chocolate chips and lobbing a handful at a time at Stiles.

Stiles tried to dodge out of the way again, but a mess of them hit him, sticking to the batter on his face and in his hair. He reached up and plucked one out, tossing it into his mouth. “I was going to use those, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Scott agreed, throwing another handful.

“But I guess there is no use now,” Stiles said, as suddenly, he got an idea. He rushed forward toward Scott, bowl out in front of him. He skid on the spilled batter on the floor, sliding toward his best friend at a high speed.

Just like he was counting on, Scott did not try to move out of the way. Instead he reached out to stop him, to catch him.

Stiles used the momentum to his advantage, tumbling into Scott’s arms, and dumping the entirety of the bowl on him.

“That was a dirty trick,” Scott said, but he was laughing, doubled over.

“It’s like you said,” Stiles wheezed out, collapsing against his best friend, fighting to breathe through all the chuckling. “There are no rules in war.”

They stood like that for a second, getting their breaths back, laughing together, leaning against each other, when the door to the kitchen flew open. “What the hell happened in here?” Melissa McCall asked, her eyes darting around her kitchen. They landed on the boys, wide and incredulous.

“We wanted to make you some cookies,” Scott offered, still grinning.

“It was Scott’s idea,” Stiles threw out, hoping to avoid a little of the blame. “I was just helping.”

“Helping destroy my kitchen,” Melissa sighed. She shook her head, tired. “How did cookies turn into batter on my ceiling?”

“Well…” Stiles started.

But Scott cut him off. “We’re sorry mom, we’ll clean it up. All of it. The kitchen will be cleaner than when we started. I promise.”

“And we’ll make new cookies,” Stiles jumped in, trying to help. He hated that look on Melissa’s face, like she was disappointed, like she expected better. She might not have been his mother, but that kind of disappointment from her was just as bad as from his father. “Better cookies.”

The corners of Melissa’s mouth were starting to quirk up, almost a smile. Scott seemed to see it too, because he agreed quickly. “Right, you just go relax. Take a bath of something. And when you are done, this will all be taken care of.”

“I am the person in the room who needs a bath least,” she snorted, but there was a real smile on her face. “But thank you boys. This was all very sweet of you. I think.”

Scott took a careful step forward and placed a delicate kiss on his mother’s cheek, careful not to touch her with his dirty hands. It still left a lip-shaped mark on her face in batter, though, since it was all over his own face. “Love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too,” she said, sighing again, but still smiling, and no longer looking as upset. Then she looked over at Stiles. “Both of you. Thank you for,” she waved a hand around the room and then shook her head, “trying, I guess.”

A smile spread on Stiles’s face to match hers and Scott’s. “I’ll go get the mop.”


End file.
